Mother’s Day 2017: Or Possibly, Probably, the Penultimate Purple Post

This past week was a bit of a challenge. James was in Alabama – on business – and I was alone tending to dogs and domicile. My Ex used to travel about one third of the year, so by comparison, the occasional trip James makes is “no big deal”. But, it kind of is.

First there is the missing of the conversations that we have all the time. I even miss our moment of disagreements. I really enjoy the former and often have learned or re-learned a lesson or two from the latter. Sometimes.

Then there are all little chores that take place around the house. When he is not here I need to make time to take two walks with dogs rather than one. Same goes when it comes to the hand watering of the garden and the whole getting and fixing food. No big whine; just a change, just time lost from other projects.

On Friday, as James was flying back from a week in Huntsville, I attended a conference entitled “Historical Fiction/Fictional Histories” at the Huntington Library. It was a deep dive into the Scholorland Pool. I think the most intriguing phrase I heard was dubious facticity. Yup, let that roll around your head for awhile. Now think about the phrase bouncing around with other ideas – is an historical fiction automatically counterfactual…counter plausible..power fashions the name…your name becomes your identity…historical instability of names. And all of this before lunch.

After lunch it was time to get my hair dyed. Then home to greet my honey before he took a nap.

That evening I went with my dear friend Laura to see “The Sweetheart Deal”. Why not my honey? Well, although I was thrilled that James had returned, I knew he would be snoring by 7. The play began at 8. Besides it is always great to spend time with Laura. It is a play that is filled with the doubts and joys and questions that accompany political activism. Won’t write more; don’t want to spoil the plot.

Saturday morning I was back at the “history conference”. How do we measure the truth in they history we know? How far can one be from an event and have the greatest degree of accuracy? A measure set by the Scots was 60 years; for the most part this is beyond adult living memory of those who were alive when the memory was made.

Yesterday afternoon we went way out to San Juan Capistrano. Our friends’ son graduated from USC. Gathering was at The Reata Park and Event Center. Lots of California native plants and lots of open space. James took these pictures. We’ll need to figure out their names and see if they will grow inland.

When we got home and I looked at Facebook it turned out that a lot of my friends were wondering what my hair looked like. I shared that wearing a purple top made me feel like I was an escapee from Marvel Comics and that I hadn’t figured out what my superpower might be.

It occurred to me this Mother’s Day morning that my superpower may the same as a lot of other women. We may be Moms or Nanas or Aunts or Sisters or Mentors.

With or without our paisley capes we are inclined to give big hugs or encouraging words.